The Half-Back: A Story of School, Football, and Golf

"Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, March!"

"One!" shrieked a youth near where Joel soon found himself at the head of the procession, and the slogan was taken up:

"Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! E-lev-en!"

"Now give me your hand, Joel!" cried the youth upon whose left shoulder he was swaying. Joel obeyed, smiling affectionately down into the upraised face. Then he uttered a cry of pain. One of the fingers of his left hand was bandaged, and Outfield West dropped it gingerly.

"Not–not broke?" he asked wonderingly. Joel nodded.

"Aren't you proud of it?" whispered his chum.

"Yes," answered Joel simply and earnestly.

"May I take it, too?" asked the other youth. Joel started and looked down into the anxious and entreating face of Bartlett Cloud. He grasped the hesitating hand that was held up.

"Yes," he answered smilingly.

And the big drum boomed, and the shrill fifes tootled, and the crimson banners waved upon the breeze, and every one cheered himself hoarse, and thus the conquering heroes came back to the college that loved them.

And Joel, a little tearful when no one was looking, and very happy always, was borne on the shoulders of West and Cloud, friend and enemy, at the very head of the procession, honored above all!